


Guaranteed To Blow Your Mind

by lovingfabri



Category: metamoro - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-15 14:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovingfabri/pseuds/lovingfabri
Summary: Ermal is a struggling singer-songwriter, lacking the confidence to pursue a solo career. Fabrizio is an alternative drag star, well known on the local scene and full of passion and rebellion. What will happen when their lives cross paths?





	Guaranteed To Blow Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I have used female pronouns (she/her) for characters when in drag. They are still men and I’ll use male pronouns when they’re not in drag. Sorry if it’s a little confusing at first.

Ermal threw the pen he was holding across the room and slumped in his chair, burying his face in his hands. Around him, a number of scrunched up balls of paper lay abandoned on the floor, a physical reminder of his creative failure. He just couldn’t understand it. Words were his speciality; even in the darkest moments of his life, Ermal had always been able to conjure up the perfect phrase, turning emotions into lyrics as easily as breathing. For the last couple of weeks, however, it felt like his brain had turned to mud. Every line he wrote felt cliche, uninspired and soulless. Which wouldn’t matter, except that his songwriting was what paid the bills, and the electricity had already gone off twice that week.

Absentmindedly tapping the table with his foot, Ermal hummed the melody to himself again, willing the words to slot themselves seamlessly into the music. The next line was almost there, he could feel it lingering in the corner of his mind, tantalisingly close yet just out of reach. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was already past 10. The logical part of Ermal’s brain urged him to call it a day and go to bed, a proposition his exhausted body was itching to accept, however he already knew that wasn’t an option. His next meeting with his agent was less than two weeks away, and Ermal knew that if he turned up empty-handed yet again, his chance of a solo career would be over before it had even started.

A sharp buzzing pulled him out of his thoughts. Grateful for the sudden distraction, Ermal grabbed the vibrating phone, held it to his ear, and was immediately hit by a wall of noise. He glanced at the screen.

“Marco?” 

Ermal couldn’t think why his close friend would be calling at this time of night. Listening intently, he faintly heard Marco’s voice among the din.  
“Ermal...I....he didn’t...bar...”  
Marco’s voice was barely intelligible; mainly because of the relentlessly loud music, but there was also a certain fluidity about his words which could only be due to alcohol. As Ermal struggled to decipher the words, the memory of his last conversation with Marco that afternoon came back to him.  
“Marco, aren’t you with Matteo? Why are you calling me now?”  
Marco began to say something incoherent on the other end of the line, then Ermal heard a distant click and the background noise died down. There was a pause before Marco finally mumbled, “He didn’t show up.”

Ermal was silent for a second. Then he exploded.  
“He didn’t even show up? After texting you for weeks? All those phone calls, all those flirty messages, not to mention the dick pics-“  
“Ermal, it’s okay, I’m sure he had a reason...” Marco said hesitantly, his wavering voice contradicting his words.  
“Give me his number, I can-“  
“Ermal, please!” Marco groaned. “Jesus, I knew I should have called Dino... I don’t want you to go after him, I just need you to pick me up. I’ll text you the address, okay?”

———————————————

Half an hour later, Ermal stood outside Plastic Club Milano, shivering slightly in the cool night air. Pulling his blue suede jacket tightly around him, he started pacing up and down the street, very conscious of the two large bouncers staring in his direction. He ducked around the corner to avoid their suspicious glances and pulled out his phone for the seventh time in 5 minutes, but there was still no message from Marco; worse still, his battery was at 5%. Why had he stopped replying? Surely he didn’t intend to leave Ermal standing outside all night?

Feeling a drop of rain on his cheek, swiftly followed by a second, Ermal made a snap decision. Quickly running a hand through his untidy curls and straightening his jacket, he approached the bouncers, who glanced appraisingly over him then, to his relief, stepped aside to allow Ermal to enter the club. 

Once inside he was immediately engulfed by a wave of heat, accompanied by the sickly sweet smell of mingled sweat and a hundred different perfumes. Bodies pressed against him on all sides as he pushed through the crowd, scanning each face for his friend. Squeezing roughly past two dark haired men, who broke apart to glare at him, Ermal skirted the long queue around the bar and continued further into the club. EDM poured out of several enormous speakers behind him; within minutes, it felt like the music was trapped inside his own head, hammering against his skull. With no sign of Marco, he instead spotted a less crowded seating area nearby and made his way over there, finding an empty seat next to a pair of cuddling girls. A quick glance at his phone revealed nothing but the solid black screen of a flat battery. Cursing, Ermal leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his head pounding.

“Fancy a drink, gorgeous?”

Ermal jumped as he felt a hand rest lightly on his shoulder. Looking up, he matched the voice to a man standing over him, dressed in a bright tank top and shorts, his brown hair slicked back with sweat. Ermal slowly shook his head, wincing slightly. The man smirked.  
“Are you new here?”  
“I’m looking for someone” Ermal shouted over the music.  
The other man laughed wryly. “Aren’t we all”, he shouted back. “I’m Claudio, by the way.”  
“Ermal. You haven’t seen a fairly drunk, brown haired man called Marco anywhere, have you?”  
“You’re literally describing half the people in this club” Claudio replied, leaning forward to make himself heard. “So unless you need to find him right now, how about you forget about your boyfriend for a while and come have a drink?”  
“Oh.” Ermal’s eyes widened and he began to stutter. “He’s not, I mean, I’m not, well-“  
Claudio raised an eyebrow.  
“So what exactly brings you to Milan’s number one gay club this fine evening?”

Ermal gaped at Claudio, who burst out laughing. Of course. How had he failed to notice he was sitting in the middle of a gay club? Heat crept up the back of Ermal’s neck and he could already feel his cheeks reddening as Claudio patted his shoulder gently.  
“Hey, it’s okay. We won’t kick you out for being straight, you know. Look, how about we get a drink anyway? Just one, and then I’ll help you find your Marco. I reckon you could do with a drink, right?”

———————————————

Many, many, alcoholic beverages later, accompanied by increasingly questionable dance moves, Ermal was starting to realise that he quite liked gay clubs. Even the terrible music sounded more bearable now he was drunk, and Claudio was an excellent companion. It turned out that he was an old friend of the bartender, a fact that he certainly used to his full advantage. 

“No more” Ermal slurred, playfully pushing away Claudio’s outstretched hand. “I need... Marco... I should find him and... and take him home.”  
Claudio pouted. “You’re in no state to drive now Ermal. Stay, please? I’m sure Marco can find another way home.”  
Ermal started to object, but at that moment his voice was cut off by the screech of a microphone.

“ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD NIGHT?”

A loud cheer rose from the crowd, and Ermal, only half unwillingly, found himself joining in. Scanning the room with slightly blurry eyes, he noticed a tall, slim man with dark skin and a bright orange shirt standing on a raised platform to his left, surrounded on all sides by the crowd. The man surveyed the audience, a knowing grin spreading across his face, and raised the microphone again.

“IT IS MY HONOUR TO INTRODUCE OUR SPECIAL GUEST THIS EVENING. THIS FIERCE QUEEN HAS BEEN SHAKING UP THE ROMAN DRAG SCENE, AND TONIGHT SHE IS HERE WITH US FOR HER MILAN DEBUT. PLEASE WELCOME........... CARLA SEUM!”

As the crowd screamed their appreciation, Ermal turned quizzically to Claudio, whose eyes had lit up.  
“Carla Seum?”  
“She’s a drag queen, well, I’d say drag goddess, as well as a dear friend of mine. Wait until she see her perform, she’s really something special - wait, you do know what a drag queen is, right?” Claudio teased lightly.  
“Of course” Ermal said indignantly, words only a little slurred. Wrapping an arm around Claudio’s shoulder for support, he turned towards the platform where the lights had suddenly dimmed. For the first time all night, the club was quiet, expectant. Even Ermal, having never so much as seen an episode of Rupaul’s Drag Race in his life, was sucked in by the sudden shift in atmosphere, the low, excited hum of the crowd all around him. Together, they waited.

The second Carla Seum appeared from behind a thick curtain of black smoke, a dark silhouette in the very centre of the stage, the club erupted. Bouncing on his tiptoes to get a better view, Ermal glimpsed an imposing figure in 10 inch heels, still largely obscured by a cloud of smoke and the waving arms of the crowd, and yet... absolutely captivating. She was dressed entirely in black, from her voluminous wig to a short, flared skirt and a tight bodice, decorated with glittering stones and bold patterns in silver thread. A pair of black leather wings stood out from the top of the bodice, framing strong arms covered in tattoos. Her large dark eyes, thick with winged eyeliner, stared straight back at the crowd, burning with a restless energy.

And from that moment, before the first bar of music exploded from the speakers, before the flashing lights and the frenetic choreography and the money raining onto the stage in tips, before Carla Seum uttered a single word... Ermal was mesmerised.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think down below! I do realise that metamoro/drag is probably quite a niche crossover so I’d love to hear your feedback.
> 
> \- Grace


End file.
